January 28, 2009

When it gets close to birthday season (mine of course—pssst, it's March) people ask what my preferred birthday cake is. In the last few years it's been yellow cake with dark chocolate frosting (simple and a-mazing) which I like to savor over days in the fridge, nibbling from with a fork, a glass of iced milk in hand. But when I was younger and my mother made a non-chocolate dessert for one of her kids' birthdays, it was angel food cake.

Softy, spongey angel food topped with mondo globs of whipped cream and fresh berries. It was then pierced with tall sparkling candles and served, a heavenly white dream dripping with bright red, blue, and purple juices. I don't know anyone who doesn't like angel food cake but even if you were a hater, the aesthetics alone make anyone's brain go trigger-crazy with the glands in your mouth. It's just so scrumptulescent.

Of course, it's not my birthday or even near it, but someone adorable gave me a Christmas present (off my list!) that I've been eager to attack since returning home from Scotland. I tend to go mute behind any book or magazine for hours but put this monster in front of me and I'll hole up and disappear for weeks. Even the introduction had me so intrigued that I read the entire thing, leaving me no time that day to actually try a recipe. When I did, I chose Craig Claiborne's AFC because 1) it seemed light and low in calories—perfect for my holiday "detox", 2) I had fresh strawberries on hand, and 3) because Mr. Claiborne's foreword declared it his "absolute favorite dessert" and you don't question a NY Times dessert editor.

I learned a whole lot about myself and my so-called loyalty to chocolate over the 3-4 days that I repeatedly crept into the kitchen to slice myself a piece for dessert (so long, detox). For the first night, I made a quick raspberry and cream topping, and for the rest, it was all about sliced strawberries by their lonesome. When it comes to toppings (any and all), the chunkier and more substantial, the better. I'm not sure I'd agree that it was my absolute favorite but for a light and fruity dessert, it's a classic.

January 21, 2009

Now that I've started a new job in the city and tacked on an extra two hours a day commuting, there's little time during the week for leisurely cooking. Weekends are (and really always have been) my Zen time in the kitchen, and it's Sundays especially that are devoted to long, laborious, cozy, hearty meals. For my boyfriend and I, it's a late afternoon meal that is patiently anticipated all-day long and cannot be fully enjoyed unless the requisite red wine and classic film are included. It's gluttony, it's lethargy, and it's beautiful.

Weekend cooking is my time to experiment as well, since there is ample room for mistakes and plan B's. So last Sunday, I figured it would be a good time to dip my toe in the art of braising (I'm a baker, not a cook, so be gentle with me) and doubly perfect for the day's cozy menu.

I decided on a chicken and plum dish as a tribute to my college roommate's mother. My roommate and I survived on slim pickings—her, Diet Coke and popcorn, me, tuna on crackers with Tabasco and Heart to Heart cereal. I kid you not. Which is shocking, actually, because I love to cook and her mother was a professional cook (she was a caterer to the stars, how glamorous)! Her family observed Shabbat on Friday evenings and it was then that we would drive out of L.A. to her home and have incredible homemade meals with the whole family. One night she made roasted chicken with plums and sage, and—blame it on the starved student lifestyle—it still stands out so prominently in my memory.

Mostly, because I didn't think such a combo would work so well. I don't love plums, dried or not, but that soft, chewy texture is a great complement to chicken and, in this recipe, white wine sauce. They added a nice sweetness that I had to have on my fork in every bite. "It is a very plum plum." (What movie?)

It turned out to be a great meal (braised meat is so tender and moist, I want to try this next) that my boyfriend and I both gave thumbs up. My only caution (and I'm going out on a limb with TMI here): don't overdo it on the plums. As in, I wouldn't make this dish (or any dish with dried plums, prunes or any variations) on date night. That's all I'm going to say.

January 15, 2009

After the first few days of our trip, my boyfriend came down with a terrible cold that seemed to slowly pass from one family member to the next. I'd heard of Hot Toddies before but only after his mum made one for the poor sniffling thing, did I taste one and completely fall in love. Sick or not, I'd found my drink!

Then, I inevitably found myself sick the day we returned home (I made it through the whole trip unscathed so I'm cursing those stinkin' toilets next to us on the plane!), and have made one for the last three nights before bed. I swear to god, they're miracle-workers. Deliciously wonderful miracle-workers.

The lemon cuts the whiskey, the honey cuts the lemon, and it all just hits the spot in an indescribable way. We brought back this lovely Scottish flower honey and it makes me so happy to scoop up a big teaspoon and clink it around my mug while inhaling the soothing vapors of lemon and whiskey.

The cherry on top? Once your throat is warmed and your congestion cleared, that whiskey will make you sleep like a baby. While I was never that partial to whiskey before, I now see us developing a special bond that only blossoms over time.

Along with spicy Thai soup and Vitamin C, Hot Toddies are now my go-to for cold comfort and cure. Bloody brilliant.

January 14, 2009

Hellooo! I'm back! Phew. It feels like ages since I've been home and it feels great, although a European vacation is always hard to end. I'm not sure if I clarified beforehand that I was going to be in Scotland for two weeks—woops! The last few months have been madness, so I apologize. But yes, I was in the land of haggis, whiskey, kilts, Loch Ness, and rolling green hills—my lovely boyfriend's home. It was a whirlwind of a trip that included NYE in the local town hall, a four-day getaway to the Highlands (*sigh*), and a beautiful Scottish garden wedding. Now that I'm almost fully recovered from jet-lag and a perpetual food coma, I thought I'd share some revelations I had during the last couple weeks, as well as my resolutions for the new year. Come on 2009!

Revelations... -Never alter your appearance dramatically before a big event. This includes haircuts, tanning, eyebrow plucking, crazy new makeup styles, etc. When your hair stylist suggests trimming a couple of inches and instead lops off your long locks aaanndd gives you bangs (the Brits say "fringe"), at least bring proper emergency products along or stand in the back during group photos.-Every girl should own a pair of stockings. The nylon thingies that I can't remember ever wearing, even as a child. Wearing a dress in Scotland in the height of winter will be your coldest memory yet, and if that's not enough, you'll get more what-is-that-crazy-American-doing glances than if you ran stark naked through Buckingham Palace. Plus, the pallor of your legs might force some to ask "Aren't you from California?" True story.-Book flights early and pay a tad more if it means saving you from the worst seats on the plane: next to the toilets. Might have been the single worst flight I've ever endured and the large snoring man jabbing me in the ribs wasn't helping. I may never leave home again.-Laid-back, spontaneous New Year's Eve parties with strangers and Scottish dancing are downright kick ass. It was potluck so I introduced the town to Sidecars and Hello Dollies. I believe there were a few "worst hangover ever" comments the next day. That's how we roll in America!-Small, intimate weddings are the most successful and the most fun. Right down to the backyard gathering, homemade tiered cupcake stand, and buffet of pheasant, lamb, salmon, vegetables, and salads. And they are especially fun if they include the whole of Northern Ireland, lots of booze, and The Proclaimers.-I love, love, love San Francisco. Even more so now because I'm starting a new job in the city and I get to commute with my love. Hi my name's Anja and I live a radical life.

December 31, 2008

December 25, 2008

December 23, 2008

I don't know what my problem is but this year, I'm having multiple holiday personalities. One day I want to sit in front of the fire and wrap presents while watching Scrooged and drinking spiced cider, the next, I want to break all dinner party plans and eat a tub of ice cream while oh-no-she-didnt-ing with Tyra. What's up with that? I've come to the conclusion that it's due to three reasons: 1) I didn't have a proper amount of summer time this year (I saw the beach maybe once and my complexion can prove it), 2) the economy (we're all broke and bitter, it's true), and 3) the boyfriend and I are leaving for Scotland the day after Christmas for his sister's wedding and somehow in my mind that means Christmas is cut in half (when really it's doubled!). These things should have no effect on my yuletide spirit yet I'm feeling majorly rebellious. Case in point: my track record in the kitchen as of late—I keep making non-Christmas cookies!

You could argue that these cookies are Christmasy, as they were part of Gourmet's December cookie feature but in my house they're unheard of. The usuals keep walking up to the cookie counter, pointing at my cookies or honeycomb and saying, "That's new! What is it?!" Then they taste it and everything is wonderful and fine and the world can rest in peace, it's just that it's totally against the grain.

I'll try to actually post a traditional recipe if I can gather the motivation but first let me tell you about these cookies. They were more than just wonderful and fine. They were great. Unexpectedly and unanimously loved by all. The little foreword in Gourmet said the same thing about the staff testing the batch and repeatedly returning for more but I wasn't sure why. I'd say it's down to the texture.

The cookies are super buttery sweet but have this incredible chewiness that is also deliciously grainy, thanks to the oats and coconut. And the wafer thinness—it just cracks and crumbles in your mouth.

They're quite easy to make but I'd advise to pay the most attention to the ball sizes when dropping on the cookie sheet. They will expand 3-4 times their size so you don't want huge glops baking together and coming out as one. I did this on the first tray and had hand-size cookies. You want little balls that can stretch and flatten.

After dropping the balls, use a spatula or back of a spoon to gently flatten them. And again, give them plenty of room to grow on the cookie sheet. Let them cool and crisp (it's all about the crisp with these babies) completely before topping with chocolate.

The fun part is when you get to go Jackson Pollock on them with chocolate. You can make a quick piping bag by using a small plastic baggie and snipping off a piece of one corner. Then fill the bag with melted (but slightly cooled) chocolate and make crazy grids across them. I was tempted to be lazy and use a spoon to drizzle the chocolate but the bag technique works wonders. I piped dark bittersweet chocolate first and then white chocolate. The combo looks and tastes exceptional together.

These cookies might as well be decorated by a kindergartner but people are totally impressed by the aesthetics. I feign bashful modesty when really I'm thinking "Haha! Fooled! I am a golden god!" (What movie?)

The light and airiness helps with the guilt after you've consumed about ten. And to preserve the crispiness, store in an airtight container layered with parchment paper. Assuming you have any left to store...

December 22, 2008

As a big fan of crunchy, honeyed goodness and a loyal follower of incredible food writing by our mates down under, it was only a matter of time until I would swallow my fear and make a batch of honeycomb. It's one of those favorites of mine that I'm always scared to try in the event that it's a disaster whose memory would taint my addiction. I found this recipe that seemed so simple, so of course there would be no chance of this happening. Wrong. I failed the first batch with flying colors and wasted a pound and a half of chocolate doing so. No matter, I told myself, I'll just try again. That's what experimentation is all about.

I baked alongside my mother as she rolled out trays of gingerbread cookies, all the while giving me the why-are-you-making-honeycomb-instead-of-helping-me-with-Christmas-cookies eye. Tush, tush. I was in the mood to try something new and I needed to concentrate. As I dumped the first solid rock of honeycomb into the trash an hour later, I was grateful that she didn't raise an eyebrow or say a word.

Honeycomb has to be heated to high "hard crack" temperatures but will burn and set as a friggin' slab of concrete if you don't watch it. My first mistake was heating it too high for too long. You have to babysit honeycomb like no other.

Once the mixture reaches 300 degrees F (I used this excellent candy thermometer to measure), take it off the heat asap and mix in the baking soda. The soda will make the mixture grow and foam but don't worry, get it fully mixed before pouring in the pan.

As it cools in the pan, it will look like it wants to deflate with little bubbles surfacing all over the place. Resist the urge to touch or shake the pan. You want the air to add volume, not come out as a thick, jaw-breaking slab.

Leave it alone for a good half hour and be sure to have greased the pan prior to this. Getting the honeycomb out of pan will make you scream and cry and maniacally stab at it with a knife (I've recovered) if you don't.

I don't know why but to this day I still have trouble discerning the different types of "cooking chocolate". There were about 40 different types at the market so I just went with Hershey's Special Dark. It came out well but I'm wondering if there might have been a better option. I love, love dark chocolate but I'm sure you can use any kind you want to top the honeycomb.

Melting the three cups of chocolate seemed like more than enough but the layer, once spread, was pretty thin. I would say to use that amount minimum, with plenty of room for more should you prefer it.

Even though getting the honeycomb to hit its cooked mark was difficult, I'd say getting it out of the pan in perfect pieces is the trickiest part. There is no way you (well at least I couldn't if my life had depended on it) can get the honeycomb out before breaking it up. I started at one corner and chiseled a little chunk out, then alternated between the heel of a knife (actually the heel of a butter knife, you don't want your hand accidentally sliding down onto the blade) and the blade to remove big triangle pieces. It crumbles a lot so it's a careful job.

My kitchen taste-testers loved the finished result though I have to say it was more like toffee than honeycomb to me. It did taste of honey but I want to figure out how to make it even lighter and fluffier, like the candy bars. A couple more tries with the aim at a "soft crack" and a flawless chocolate should do the trick.

December 19, 2008

We had freezing temperatures and lots of rain a few days ago, leaving snow on nearby mountaintops and San Franciscans freaking out on the news. Then it stopped and was perfectly clear and gorgeous out. Freakishly gorgeous for a chilly December day, so the love and I went for a spontaneous mid-day, mid-week hike on the mountain. I brought the camera along to see what it's like to upload pictures that don't involve food. And alas, it's raining again...

You can't see the water line but it's right behind the hills. Not a cloud in the sky.

I wasn't dressed properly because as I said, it was spontaneous. So no, I don't usually hike in Wellingtons.

A peek out to the water from the trail.

One of about two hundred photos of a tree. But beautiful, come on!

I love the lighting in the early afternoon hours. All those ferns remind me of Oregon.

"Are you really going to take a picture of another tree?" Why yes, yes I am.

These spooky branches reminded me of Snow White, when the forest comes alive.

We met a few tourists on the path, hiking up from Muir Woods. They asked for directions and we pulled out our iPhones. O, technology!

Don't you love discovering things you've never seen before in places you always go?

Walking along the street, looking out towards Stinson Beach.

"Tamalpais" means "sleeping maiden" in Miwok because its silhouette is that of a woman lying down. And since I was told this as a child, I can see nothing but that silhouette every time I look at it.

December 15, 2008

My family is known for three things: big parties, sidecars, and popcorn balls. Oh yeah, and legal incest (my mom's sister married my dad's brother. I'll give you a minute to think about it and we can address it at a later time but I swear it's totally legit.) but that's neither here nor there. The popcorn ball history is a long and beloved one in our family mainly because it's a fun treat to eat and an event that everyone can be a part of. If you have kids, making popcorn balls is a mouth-watering, eye-popping Willy Wonka daydream that will leave an indelible mark on their childhood memories. It also serves as a hey!-learning-can-be-fun activity that teaches them the step-by-step process of cooking and following directions. But above all, popcorn balls are great because they're cheap, simple and impossible to mess up. We make them every Christmas in festive colors but also for baby showers, school bake sales, science fairs (my little brother gave them out alongside his report of how popcorn pops!), and birthday parties. I can't tell you how many friends and coworkers still ask me about popcorn balls. They're the all-around prize-winners.

When I say they're the easiest thing in the world to make, I mean it. We made three different batches is less than an hour—popping to wrapping and jarring. We aimed for some Christmasy flair for the kids alongside the trays of toffee, Russian tea cakes, and candied nuts. Although who am I kidding, kids eat anything with sugar. They'll get their sticky paws on it all.

We popped three brown paper bags full of plain, unsalted popcorn using a popcorn popper. I can't remember the last time I popped popcorn on the stove but I'm sure it's all the same. Popcorn doesn't do well with moisture so we bagged and sealed what we weren't using and set aside. And as a general note, find and dispose of any unpopped kernels because they can ruin the whole experience if bitten into.

The basic recipe is sugar, corn syrup, cider vinegar, butter, and vanilla. All but the butter and vanilla is combined first, including the food dye, and heated on the stove. Then the butter and vanilla get thrown in just before pouring over the popcorn.

You can choose any colors to add to the syrup and I'll tell you that kids go for the brightest, craziest colors, like greens and blues. I'd suggest adding dye little by little or you might get a yellow that looks orange, like we did.

We doubled and tripled the recipe to make huge quantities of balls to give as gifts and set out for eating. When working at the stove, the syrup will get really hot so keep children away and use wooden spoons! Many recipes gauge when the syrup is ready by measuring with a candy thermometer (260 degrees F) but my mother uses the water trick. As it boils and thickens, you drop a spoonful of the syrup into a cup of cold water and then pinch it with your fingers. If it stays together, taffy-like then it's ready. Otherwise give it another minute or two and test again.

After you've tested that the syrup is ready, remove from heat and add the butter and vanilla. While hot, pour over the popcorn and stir quickly to coat the whole batch.

The syrup will rapidly cool down so work quickly to cover the popcorn. After it's relatively cool and mixed, the kids can join in. We all butter our hands and dig in, shaping snowball-sized balls and placing them on parchment to set. The balls should be gently shaped, not packed tightly. If you're having a hard time forming balls because the syrup is sticking to you, wash your hands and re-butter them.

Our red batch came out kind of pink but so chewy! We might have thrown in an extra teaspoon or two of vanilla—the chewy ones are always the best.

The green batch came out perfectly. As soon as they were balled, laid out and plastic-wrapped, they mysteriously disappeared. I think it was because a hungry, mischievous group of 11-year-old boys swept through on their way home from school. The usual suspects.

Some quick ball-forming while everything is still hot and malleable is key. Kids go crazy with buttered hands and brightly colored treats, and will no doubt be secretly licking their fingers and eating abandoned popcorn fragments. I have distinct memories of popcorn ball craze from my childhood, long before my first Easy Bake Oven. The sound of popcorn popping and smell of intense sugar means it's baking time with mom.

If some of the balls droop or pull apart while setting, just gently push them back together. We had a problem with this on the first batch because of too much vanilla. Vanilla is good for the chewiness but don't overdo it.

They all taste the same but I'm not sure how appetizing the yellow ones look, which was an accident as a result of too much food coloring. Golden and buttery but not as festive as the red and green. Hmm.

In years in the past, we've done up the popcorn balls in pretty bags and ribbons for gifting but this year skipped it. We usually wrap them in saran wrap and jar them, to be displayed on a counter full of holiday treats. They make really fun gifts no matter how they're presented.

It's only been a few days and already most of this first round is gone. My sister is home from school and has popcorn balls at the top of her list to make so fortunately there will be replacements!

Be careful on your teeth and don't forget to brush them afterwards. And enjoy the popcorn ball fun!